


The Games We Play

by BlueFeatheredFeline



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Best Friends, Challenges, F/F, F/M, Fate & Destiny, M/M, No Plot/Plotless? Sort of?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plotbunnies, Self Prompt, Souls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFeatheredFeline/pseuds/BlueFeatheredFeline
Summary: The Firsts. The Keepers of Magic. The Lords And Ladies of the Paragon. They go by many names, but in the end, they are the deities of fate. For them, however, it was basically game night with friends to make the best story.OrA collection prompts, story challenge, and future fic concepts (sneak peeks) as told from the Gods and Goddesses mentioned in 'Encyclopedia of Elves'.EDIT: Now includes one off chapters/scenes (up for adoption!) and one-shots. Please mind the rating given before each chapter.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53





	1. A Change of Heart Challenge (G)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, these are writing challenges. Each 'chapter' is basically the deities throwing ideas at one another to create a story concept. Some of these I will eventually write. Others will linger here waiting for someone else to pick up the challenge. Any which way, the plot is just them making stuff up together.  
> Also! If any of these ideas sounds like something you want to write, please do so, and remember to send me the link. I would love to see what other writer's do with these concepts. And yes, even the deities are free game to use in your fanfics if you want. :D

Seven figures sat around a massive stone tablet; each with what appeared to be a treasure chest in front of them. It rested face up so that an equally large scroll could lay out unfurled from end to end. Were a mortal to look upon the scroll, it would look like a hoard of nonsensical items had been thrown every which direction with only the occasional glowing dot hidden within the mess. To the figures, however, it told a story. These nonsense objects were pieces of fate- moments large and small- meant to help or hinder mortal souls.

This was because the seven figures were deities behind the tales known as 'The Dragon Prince'.

The dragon's knew them as The First.

Were you to ask elves, they were called the Keepers of Magic.

But were you to hear it from humans, their names would be the Lords and Ladies of the Paragon.

To each other, however, they were old friends. They existed together in a world both between and beyond worlds. Naturally, their favourite game they played every Waking was known as The Souls' Journey.

“You are such a cheater,” the Lady Dreams grumbled with a pout. She ruffled her four great wings to add to her point that she was not pleased.

At the end of the tablet table, a figure that could only be described as the essence of darkness was calmly rolling up the scroll. Its dots and objects all remained in place as he did so. “I have told you before, Themia, one cannot cheat at souls...”

“... Nor can one win or loose, only achieve their objective. That was still a dirty trick, Numbra,” she waved her hand dismissively.

“I don't see why you are angry,” the Lord Shadow continued to speak in his hissing, whispering voice as he sealed the scroll. On the string tying it closed, a little tag suddenly gained golden letters reading ' _The Dragon Prince: Book 3 Sun'._ “The little dragon is with his mother. The Dragon Queen is now awake. Humans and elves are in position to begin an era of peace. Not to mention, your champion has learned mage wings, and he and Sylvarre's favoured have fallen in love. Again.”

“Era of peace? With Aaravos heading in position for rebirth?” she huffed as she rearranged the pieces in her chest. “Aaravos' bond should have been destroyed by the fall.”

“The bond worm was a spell, not a living creature. Therefore, it could not be killed so long as Aaravos lives,” Numbra, Lord of Shadows, countered.

Themia was ready to counter, but her beloved's hand on her shoulder silenced her.

“Don't be flustered, my love. We achieved much in this chapter,” Sylvarre- known as the Maiden of the Moon, Lady Justice, and the First Night- softly spoke. She turned her sightless gaze to the Goliath of the group. “Thank you, Daycio, for this wonderful chapter. I quite enjoyed the challenges and setting you created.”

The heavily muscled deity was mid stretch, but he smiled with her gratitude. His voice was warm, as he answered, “It was a pleasure to play the main story, again.”

“I agree,” Numbra said as he settled the scroll among thousands of others. He turned a pointed look to the Earl of the Earth. “Let us hope it is not an eon before the next chapter can be played.”

“It will be if you want quality stuff,” the Lord Bounty gave a cheeky grin as he raised his ever filled stein.

The littlest of their group glanced at their silent member. Though time was technically irrelevant to them, the Soothsayer of the Stars was more or less as good as a clock beneath his cloak.

“We still have another century before Weaving,” the young Lady Reflection spoke up. Though she looked like a six-year-old child, she was just as old as her fellow Keepers. “Would anyone like to play a side story?”

The Lord Fortune- aka the Soothsayer of the Stars, aka The First Hour... or simply Lynx- silently nodded his agreement.

“Perhaps an alternate story. Themia may start to throw lightning bolts if we play another within timeline,” Daycio leaned back in his chair. His blazing eyes filled with mirth as he watched his friend's reaction.

“After the crap he just pulled, you're probably right,” Themia laughed with a jab of her thumb towards Numbra. Then she silently passed the galaxy cakes to her lover without needing to be asked.

“Of course! I have a few side story ideas I've wanted to try out,” the Earl began to happily shuffling through his fate treasures.

“It was Aquis' suggestion, Georde. It would be only fair that she should choose this story's challenge,” Sylvarre firmly pointed out as she took a cake.

“It has been a few millennia since you have last lead,” Numbra settled back into his seat. He grabbed a fresh cloud, and took a swig.

The Oculus of the Ocean began to swing her legs with excitement. “Well, there is one I've been considering, but I don't think Numbra will enjoy it.”

“Do it,” Themia bluntly responded.

The Shadow deity would have rolled his eyes if he had any, “Just for that, I am killing Nyx.”

The Summoner of the Sky slammed her hand on the tablet. “Don't you dare!” he voice boomed like thunder.

Lynx did not say a word, yet everyone understood he had just prompted Aquis to go on.

“Well... I have wanted to play destiny for Aaravos,” her water like locks waved with her nervousness.

Numbra tilted his head with interest, “That would be quite a challenge for you. Aaravos' soul is not the type to desire inner peace.”

“Exactly,” Aquis smiled. “That is the challenge. The six of us would do all we can to guide Aaravos to inner peace, while you try to keep him towards darkness.”

“A change of heart story?” Sylvanne hummed. “The results of a no longer bitter Aaravos could have endless possibilities.”

Themia jumped in, “And then this new Aaravos met Callum. Do you think he would teach the boy how to harness all six primal sources?”

“That is a lot of power to be giving one human, though,” Lord Bounty scratched his moss beard. The motion shook loose a chip-mouse from within it. The tiny creature squeaked upon landing on the table. Then it shot off into the sleeve of his resting arm.

Daycio nodded his agreement, “It would give Numbra an advantage to try corrupting the boy.”

“Indeed, a worthy challenge,” a wicked, crooked grin split the shadow's face. “So, am I to understand that this story's purpose would be to create a good Aaravos? One who would then meet and perhaps train Callum in primal magic all while the children once again work towards peace between humans and Xadia. My part being seeing if I can corrupt either Aaravos or Callum, thus resulting in a prolonging, and perhaps escalating, the war?”

Light shimmered in Aquis eyes, “Does that mean you will let me play Aaravos' destiny?”

Numbra drummed his long bony fingers on his fate chest. After a moment, he reached into it, and pulled out a sliver of glass. It radiated with darkness that its natural sparkle was almost completely lost. Ever so gently, he offered it out to Lady Reflection. She happily leapt from her seat, and raced around the table to accept.

The moment the shard was dropped into her coral like hands, the darkness flickered. In seconds, the shadowy image was replaced with deep water. It was still dark, but more of the original soul was showing through. One could even begin to see their own reflection mirrored from the piece.

“Thank you!”

She ran over to snatch a blank scroll, and then laid it out on the tablet. Finally, she hurried back to her seat and began pulling out odds and ends to place across the board. The others occasionally adding their pieces where necessary. When all was said and done, Aquis stood on her chair so that she could reach to near the middle of the page, and gently set the soul in place.

“Good luck!” she whispered as it changed into a little sparkling dot.


	2. A Tale of Time (G)

The Scroll Palace was silent. The alter was clean, and- for now- its players were absent. All except one, that is.

Lynx was a deity of time itself. Therefore, he was usually the one to arrive first. He was extra early this time, as this waking, it was his turn to construct the story they would play. Since the main plot was still on hold until Georde was complete his master piece, that is.

Ever silent, Lynx went about copying another story that had been played. His cosmic cloak swayed with his movements. Behind his face covering, and beneath his hood, his eyes would shimmer different colours as he touched different pieces of time from this story. It was as he finished his work that Daycio and Numbra appeared. One in a flash of fire, the other from a portal of darkness.

“Pleasant waking, brothers.” Daycio beamed as he started to remove his glistening golden armour. His heavy shield loudly clanked as it was settled with his sword on the rack.

Lynx acknowledged the greeting with a polite nod.

“Yes, yes. Pleasant waking,” Numbra grumbled as he settled his fate chest at his seat.

Daycio let the last of his armour fall to the floor to reveal his under tunic. A ball of fire formed in his hands that morphed and shaped into his own treasure box. “Trouble with mortals again, Numbra?”

“Have you ever known my followers to be the kind that do not give me a headache?” the shadow deity countered. But then the slightest grin split his skeletal face, “I suppose it is entertaining that these dark mages still believe they have the power to cheat me.”

Lynx listened as he set out his copied version of this wakings story on the tablet beside his fate chest. Then, without warning he raised the side of his cloak to cover both objects. As he did so, the endless ceiling suddenly filled with a bluster of fluffy clouds. A foot of snow dropped down, and coated everyone and everything. The clouds themselves rained down as smaller snowflakes collecting in a cluster until finally creating the sky master, herself.

“Pleasant Waking, everyone!” Bells around her wrists jingled with Themia's exuberant greeting. She was decked out in warm winter garb that looked as though it was made from snow.

“Are those Yule bells I hear?” Sylvarre walked over the snowy ground without leaving a single indent.

“It sure is, my Love,” Themia joyfully grasped her beloved's hands, and then leaned in to give a tender kiss. “You will have to come back with me next Walk, and feel the atmosphere. I have already inspired no less than seventy-three new poems, paintings, and yule time songs.”

Sylvarre lightly chuckled as she returned the kiss, “It has always been your best season.” She then moved to her seat, completely unbothered by the snow. “Who are we missing?”

Lowering his cloak, and gently dusting the snow from his hood, Lynx pointed at the two empty chairs. Through his energy, Sylvarre could feel 'ocean' and 'earth'.

Water suddenly rushed to the smallest seat. It wrapped around the chair before forming into a child-like figure. “I'm here!”

“Happy Waking, Aquis. How are the sea dragons doing?” Sylvarre calmly asked as she untied her eye covering. Then she opened her fate chest, and draped the cloth over the side.

“They are wonderful,” Aquis blissfully sighed. “They just started to change into their migration colours, and the juveniles have started to play fight with one another.”

Lynx quietly tapped Daycio on his shoulder. When the Sergeant of the Sun glanced down at his friend, the Soothsayer of the Stars motioned towards the snow covered table. They could not risk placing out the scroll when Themia's enthusiasm could cause an unexpected ice age. Though he did tuck the idea of an extended winter world away for another game of Souls & Stories.

The giant nodded his head, and then placed his hands on the alter. The gold tapesty of heroes painted on every inch of his dark skin began to glow. Wondrous warmth radiated off of him until the snow became puddles. Before he could increase his heat to evaporate the rest, Aquis waved her little hand, and the water pooled into a ball in front of her. It shifted and morphed in front of her until it finally became her barnacle covered fate chest.

As that was occurring, a tree sprouted near the entry steps. It grew until it was big enough to form a tall, wide door. When it opened, Georde gleefully marched out. His arms filled with various sized baskets. There were so many that even the array birds resting on his antler crown had to carry several. Even his ever loyal stag and doe each had some on their backs.

“A wondrous Waking, my friends!” his trade mark jolly smile was spread from ear to ear. “My it's cold in here.”

“Themia's fault,” Numbra pointed to said First Breath before the chill could be blamed on him. Again.

Georde heartily laughed, “I see you were visiting a Yule season, Sister. I should have brought your snow doves for you!”

Sylvarre made a soft hum as she listened to his shuffling. “Have you brought the entire season with you?”

“Don't be silly, Sister,” he happily replied as he gently settled the baskets next to his chair. “This is just the harvests for the human kingdoms, and a couple of souls I want to finish designing while we play. Including...” he trailed off as he seemed to search the many baskets. His doe reached down, grabbed one basket by its handles, and held it out to him. The portly Earl of the Earth clapped his hands before accepting. “Here it is!” He then turned to present the kelp woven basket to Aquis. “Your newest baby sea turtles, my dear.”

Light sparkled in the sea green eyes of The First Tide as she accepted. “Thank you, Georde. I shall have them ready to be born by next Journey.” She peeked open the lid to see the billions of tiny turtle souls perfectly packaged within.

Granted, if a mortal were to look inside, they would only see the stones one used in household aquariums.

Finally, Georde reached into his long beard with one hand, and randomly grabbed into a two foot tall basket with the other. From his beard he withdrew a wittling knife, and from the basket, a half finished a piece of limestone half carved into a fang with grey fur glued to the largest part.

He did not let the others feel it, but annoyance bubbled in Lynx's chest. Georde had a bad habit of messing with his soul work when it was Lynx's turn to make the story. He knew it was just the First Creation's way of pouting. Where all seven deities were creators in their own right, life itself was mostly Georde's domain. As master of time, Lynx was the one that deemed how much time each soul was destined to have. Barring that the choices of one mortal did not cut another's shorter than intended, of course, he inwardly mused. Free will did have a way of making each of their jobs complicated from time to time.

But that was why Souls & Stories existed. The same group of souls making choices based on whatever alterations were made. If Numbra succeeding in disrupting the balance, and destroying all in one story, well, those same souls would get another chance for peace and happiness in another existence.

Where Lynx had been silent in his annoyance, the Maiden of the Moon raised up her hand. “Terry a moment, both of you. Do you not remember the last time you crafted while we played?”

Georde paused from his wittling, “Er... no.”

Static zipped around Themia's wings, “Well I do. I had worked hard on that story and then it was all for not because _someone_ lost a soul.”

He blinked a moment clearly search his thoughts, “Oh yes! I remember now. But I didn't loose the soul. It just attached itself to Callum, and- by their destined bond- Rayla.”

Numbra's cool voice cut in, “I do not see the issue. It was one of our more interesting stories in my opinion.”

“Of course you would think that. It was complete chaos,” Daycio crossed his arms. “I used over half my tokens just to convince my favoured to remain on the correct trail.”

Sensing an impending argument, Lynx rapped his knuckles on the table. All attention turned to him. He waved to the chairs in a welcoming motion to indicate those that had not needed to be seated. Once all were gathered, he unfurled the copy scroll.

Sylvarre gently laid her fingers on the edge of the parchment. In an instant, she scrunched her nose, “You wish to continue this one?”

He shook his head no. They waited and watched as he drew a touch of sand from within his fate chest. Settling it in one gloved palm, he had the other hand hover over as though he was pouring into that hand. Then, the sand moved upwards in a reversed falling motion. After the last grain disappeared into his fist, he opened his hand to reveal a tiny hourglass no larger than a thimble. Within the glass, it was evident the sands inside were frozen from falling.

Aquis tilted her head, “We haven't done a time travelling story in some time.”

“Because they always run too short due to how easy they are for the five of you.” Numbra leaned his chin on his folded fingers, and hissed, “I assume the ones keeping their memories will not include any of my favoured.”

From his cosmic chest, he withdrew a bowl and three threads of twine. Placing the threads within, he held out the bowl to the middle of the scroll. Below, every dot on the parchment seemed to radiate as if vying for attention.

“Three completely random souls being selected to return,” Numbra hummed.

Lynx nodded as he withdrew the bowl back to his lap. He motioned with his fingers first close together, then far apart from one another. Finally, with palms up, he raised both hands.

Themia's jaw dropped, “You want to retell this story until _everyone_ has time travelled?”

Daycio straightened in his seat, “a time traveller's saga. The possibility of heroic tales is endless.”

Numbra scoffed, “I may as well not partake.”

“Never took you for the type to back down from a challenge,” Themia teased.

“It is not a challenge. It is an impossibility stacked against me. I have only three favoured that can influence the timeline enough to make it a semi-fair challenge,” he seethed as he glared at each of the others.

“That may be so, but given the chosen story they come from, many souls are already heavily traumatized, and walk the line towards corruption,” Sylvarre gently reached out to one little dot. It glowed under her touch, but there was a noticeable darkness outlining it. “You nearly stole this Rayla from me several times, already.”

“She's right,” Aquis looked sadly upon dots that no longer glowed, and the broken fate pieces around them. “It would be a challenge to help our favoured find inner peace let alone help them achieve a fitting destiny.”

The Forgotten Keeper clicked his bones, “Very well. But we will lessen the pool of those that can go back. No one that died before the day of the assassin's strike.”

Heat pulsed from Daycio as he seethed, “As long as the day prior is when each shall be returned to. Nearly all of my living favoured require time to account for travel.”

Lynx gave a sharp nod. Then he waved his hand at each of his fellow deities.

“Agreed,” four answers- reluctantly- rose.

Sylvarre fiddled with her scales as she considered her next words. “Perhaps we should make an official list of those whom may go back. Clearly if Viren or Harrow were to be returned, they would have far more influence on the balance of the story than say Lujanne or Villads.” She reached over to take Themia's hand, “No offence meant, my love.”

After carefully removing the three threads, and placing them on the lid of his chest, Lynx offered out his bowl. Understanding his request, five deities went about carefully plucking their desired souls from the scroll and placing them within the bowl.

Noticing that Georde was more enthralled with the details of his carving, Daycio gave the Lord of Bounty a mild smack to his shoulder. Which, given the Lord of Protection's strength, was still hard enough to knock the smaller deity around. As fortune would have it- likely because he _was_ the Lord of Fortune- Lynx already had his free hand at the ready to snatch the soul before it could be lost to the time scroll.

“Nice save,” Georde cheered.

“Did you hear any of this challenges terms, brother?” Daycio gave him a knowing look.

Accepting his work back, Georde carelessly waved around his wittling tool, “Three random souls... Time travel... I got it.”

Aquis leaned in with one hand beside her mouth, though she still spoke loud enough for them all to hear, “Psst. Brother. You need to add your favoured to the collection.”

His stone grey eyes turned to the Lady of Reflection. Then to to bowl Lynx still patiently held out to him. He jolted as the pieces clicked together, which caused his antler crown to rattle and upset his menagerie of birds. “Right! Of course.”

He tucked both tool and unfinished soul into his beard while his eyes focused in on the parchment. As he set about picking who to add, the others finished their collecting as well. Once all were decided, Lynx picked up the three twine pieces by the ends. He set them towards the collection. Like long magnets, they extended to or away from the various souls until each thread had snagged one. Gently pulling up, three little trinkets came with: a tiny wooden chair, a paper flower, and a butterfly with a pin stabbed through it.

Raising one silver eyebrow, the Lady of Justice quipped, “Well this will certainly be interesting.”

The others could not agree more.


	3. A Fate Changing Gift (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Assassin's take a rest while journeying to Katolis when a common toy sets everyone's nerves on edge.

Six elven travellers huddled around their measly fire. The cave they had taken shelter in blocked out the worst of the mountain's storm, but the frigid wind was still very much a problem.

Rayla sat fully cocooned in her travel bedding. She was firmly tucked in between the group leader, Runaan, and the only other female elf, Andromeda. Runaan's own blankets were more resting on Rayla than himself. The only other elf to press themselves into the huddle was Andromeda's younger brother, Ram, seated on said sister's other side. For the hundredth time he grumbled under his breath as he tried to warm his hands by rubbing them together. It seemed his gloves were of no help, but that could be because of the metal throwing knives strapped to the top of each glove.

The remaining two members of their team- Callisto and Skor- kept to themselves. They had, however, made a point of being the ones that unfortunately sat closest to the entrance, semi-blocking the wind with their backs. Only their occasional shivers gave away the weather was actually bothering the pair.

Add in the stress that these six moonshadow elves were still about a week's travel from the capital of the human kingdom of Katolis with only eight days until the full moon, moral did not appear to be high for any of them.

Not the first time that night, Runaan subtly glanced at his young charge. She was not drinking the hot water in her cup, allowing the steam to help thaw her nose. Casually, he reached over for a new branch to break and add to the flame. Before he returned to his fabric shelter, he dove a hand into his pack that he had been using as a back rest. His movement easily caught the curiosity of those gathered; they had already all eaten their share of rations for that evening.

No one had expected him to hold out a decorative wooden cube. A sparkle of surprise and awe filled Rayla's eyes upon recognizing the finely carved box. Most telling was the star rune on the front painted with a deep blue that would catch the light to make it appear like it was part of the night sky. The lilac, paper flower bow was crumpled from travel, but it was still evident that the object was a present.

With a kind smile, he offered it out to her, “Ethari had asked me to give this to you after our mission was complete. Given we have nothing more to do, I see no reason not to give it to you now.”

A slight blush coloured Rayla's cheeks as she set down her mug to accept the gift. She might not have felt as embarrassed about him giving her a gift in front of the other assassins if it was not so obvious what it was; a fortune prism.

After all, fortune prisms were an uncommon- though certainly not rare- children's toy. Maybe by star magic, these little trinkets would answer any questions no matter if it was based on the past, present, or future. Of course, the answers for the future were based on highest probability, and many learned that said answers could be changed. Thus no one actually took its 'predictions' seriously. Rayla had been trying all trip to prove how adult she was, but dammit, she had wanted one of these since she was ten years old. It took a great deal of self control not to look _too_ excited as she accepted it.

She hesitated only a moment to wonder if would be considered childish to take out the prism now. Her giddy joy shooed away any possible damage to her pride, and she easily unlatched the puzzle side of the box. There was no helping the smile that slipped onto her lips as she looked at the crystal pyramid within. It was transparent black, but the moment she tipped it into her hand, the magic within created the illusion that she was holding part of the night sky in her palm. She was pleasantly surprised to learn it was actually warm

“It's beautiful,” she turned to show Runaan all her gratitude she could not find the words for in her eyes. “Thank y'u, Runaan.”

His own reflected that he understood, and he gave a slight nod with a blink to say he was happy she liked it. “Remember it is Ethari you should be thanking. I am simply the one to deliver it to you.”

She made a mental note that she would be giving a certain blacksmith a huge hug when she got home.

“Go on, Lass. Ask it somethin',” Andromeda gave a playful nudge.

Realizing she was suddenly in the spot light, Rayla's mind went completely blank. She ran her thumb along one of its four smooth faces. “Ah don' know wha' ta ask.”

“Dinnae lasses always ask 'em if they'll find true love, or some shite like that?” Ram sounded disgruntled, but it was clear to his comrades the tone was towards the cold, not the toy.

Runaan gave the younger assassin a disapproving stare. He did not say anything, though, as by now he knew asking Ram not to use vulgarities was like asking a fish not to swim.

Andromeda rolled her eyes at her brother, but then grinned at Rayla, “The numpty's right, though. Ye should ask if magic designed a special elf just fur ye.”

“Y'u would have ta be clear tha' y'u mean true romantic love,” Callisto piped in as he ladled more hot water into his own mug. “Those things tend to be rather literal in their answers.”

Lighting with the distraction, Runaan calmly suggested, “Perhaps you should ask if you have a destined match.”

She chewed her lip as she considered the piece in hand. It felt silly to ask, but, then again, every elf young and old wanted to know if they had a soul mate somewhere out there. “Alright. Um...” she held the prism up. “Do Ah have a destined match?”

Six pairs of eyes watched as the starry imagine within began to fill up with many more shimmering lights. Those lights caught the edges of the crystal that it case out soft white rays almost as bright as moonlight. Genuine smiles filled each face. A plethora of emotions bloomed in her chest, “That means yes, right?”

“It does,” Skor answered. The amused smile on his face helped chase away some of the weariness in him.

“Ye should ask if ye already know 'em,” Andromeda nodded approvingly.

“Nah. Find oot if he's got a big banger,” Ram snickered.

His sister promptly swatted the back of his head, “Shut yer gob. Her match might no' even be a 'he', ye eejit.”

A bit of mischief sparked inside Rayla as she considered her own vengeance on his comment. She held the prism up for all to see once more, and asked, “Will Ram ever grow up?”

The change was instant. From the mini night sky, all the tiny lights blinked out until the inside of the crystal was an empty black. This clearly negative answer caused a round of laughter.

“Oh fock aff,” he griped as he huddled his blankets tighter around himself. This only caused Andromeda and Rayla to laugh more.

“Dinnae be sour, Ram. We still love ye, e'en when yer a pain in the arse,” the herbalist elf tousled her brother's hair.

“Y'u shouldn' lie ta him like tha', Andy,” Callisto coyly cut in.

Ram shot him a look, “Aye, well, Ah dinnae love ye neither, mate.”

“Whit a shan,” she pretend pouted. “The two o' ye would make a cute couple.”

Both males scrunched their noses.

“Away with ye. E'en if Ah was inta blokes, there's naw fockin' way Ah'd be with Mr. Beauty Elf o'er there,” Ram jabbed his thumb in Callisto's direction.

“Says the elf tha' takes twenty minutes ta arrange his hair just right,” he countered with a false edge to his tone.

“That is enough,” Runaan's voice was calm, but firm. He was in no mood to deal with Ram's short fuse tonight.

The group grew quiet as Rayla considered what next she could ask the prism. The mere fact that she had a destine match caused a dizzying amount of questions to pop up in hopes of figuring out who he- she was pretty sure it was a he- was, and where to find him. Of course, this raised the question: did she dare to ask them in front of the team, or wait until she was in private?

Looking up, she unintentionally met Skor's eyes. Seeing him, knowing his mind was back in the Silvergrove, she realized learning about her match could wait. She held the prism out as if offering it to him, then she asked, “Will Skor and Catriona's new baby be born male or female?”

The prism, however, returned to the glimmering night sky it had been when she first touched it.

He gave her a grateful smile, and gently reminded her, “It only answers yes or no questions.”

“Right,” she sheepishly tried again. “Will Skor and Catriona's new baby be born male?”

The stars once again increased until the prism radiated light from within. There was only the slightest outer change in Skor's demeanour. A slight softening to his eyes, and the tiniest upturn to the corner of his mouth.

Callisto smirked at Andromeda.

She scoffed at him, “Dinnae say it. A pint o' bock, right?”

“A bottle o' spear-vined sherry,” his firm counter was met with a an expression that could only be described as a non-verbal 'what the fuck?!'

Skor cocked his brow, and amusement tinged his tone, “Y'u bet on mah child's sex?”

Callisto met the look with a coy sideways glance, “She insisted it would be fun.”

The two males, as well as Runaan, shared a chuckle. Eyeing the three with suspicion, Andromeda's mouth fell open, “Ye focker! Ye already knew it was gaun ta be a lad, didnae ye?”

He did not need to answer. The proud mirth shimmering in his gaze was tell enough.

Still, Skor explained for him, “Tri and ah found out months ago. And we asked Callisto ta be the baby's moon guide.”

Rayla giggled as Ram full on burst out laughing. With a back handed tap to his sister's shoulder, he teased, “he got ye good!”

“That has ta be considered cheatin',” she grumbled as she crossed her arms.

“This is why one should never make any sort of bargain unless they are certain they have the same or more knowledge than whom they are making a deal with,” as he spoke, Runaan gave Rayla the look she knew he was signalling her to pay attention to what he was saying.

Her response was a firm nod stating she understood.

Andromeda half-glared across the fire at Callisto, “Right, well, just fur that, ye bastart, ye dinnae get ta choose the kind o' piss ye get. Gran would hae my horns if she found oot Ah gambled good brew on a loosin' bet.”

The second-in-command gave a half-laugh, “A simple moonberry sherry will do, then.”

“Wha's the occasion?” Rayla innocently asked. At the mild surprise in his features, she explained, “Ah've only ever seen y'u drink wine durin' holidays.”

There was no hiding the pride shinning from Runaan's features, but Rayla was not looking in his direction to see it.

Conceding, he bowed his head to hide his expression, and responded in a quiet voice, “Ah may have reason ta celebrate when we return ta the Grove.”

“Ye 'n' yer no' so secret lassie finally gaun ta come clean?” Some of the good humoured teasing in Ram's tone was lost to chattering teeth when another strong gust blew in.

Pulling his covers up higher to better protect his ears, Callisto gave an exacerbated sigh, “Ah don' have a secret girlfriend.”

“Sure ye dinnae. Let's lay this ta rest, then.” Ram turned his focus on Rayla, and pointed at her prism. “Can Ah see that?”

“Don' give it ta him,” there was a sharp edge to his tone as he glared at Ram.

Before she could respond to either of them, Runaan put his verbal foot down, “Leave it be. Callisto is permitted his privacy no different than the rest of us.”

Ram huffed as he curled his protective bedding tighter around himself, “Fockin' misery moon.”

Deciding to have mercy, Rayla offered, “Do y'u have anythin' else y'u want ta ask the prism, Ram?”

His ears perked up. The knife thrower gave a thoughtful hum for a moment. His hand snaked up out under his blanket for him to rub a spot behind his ear; a nervous twitch he still could not control. “Suppose Ah do.” He straightened up a little and forced himself to move his hand away from his ear. “Ask it if Piscah fancies meh.”

Giving a playful grin, Rayla bit back her teasing. Instead, she held the out the prism so he could clearly see it, “Does Piscah o' the Moonshadow Elves fancy Ram o' Westland Moon?”

She instantly regretted asking as all the little stars inside the prism completely blinked out of existence for the second time that night.

Andromeda shook her head as her brother pouted, “Ah keep tellin' ye ta let that yin go.”

“Aye. Whitever,” he huffed.

Looking to return to a more light-hearted atmosphere, Rayla turned to the female beside her, “Wha' about y'u, Andromeda? Do y'u have anythin' ye want ta ask?”

But she waved the younger elf off, “Naw, Ah'm good, lass. Ah'm good.”

Thus she turned to her other side, and offered the crystal, “Runaan?”

There was a long pause where her surrogate father simply met her violet eyes with his own cyan blues. Then he looked down at the triangular pyramid, and ever so gently picked it up. For the moment it was changing hands, the stars faded, but then a completely new arrangement of night sky appeared once he was holding it. He confidently spoke with his gaze on the trinket, “Will we be successful on this mission without sacrifice?”

Suddenly, the cold did not feel so terrible in comparison to the deathly chill spearing the hearts of all present; the prism had become completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple different 'if the assassin's knew ahead of time' ideas, but the bulk of each story has a lot of common factors or has nothing beyond HOW they find out (ie this set up chapter). I honestly really liked this one's set up, but it's all I have for it. It doesn't even have an actual title!   
> Instead of leaving it to sit in my fanfic collections, I figured I could post it here either to be adopted, or for your comments to help inspire the rest of the story.  
> If you do adopt this chapter, or are inspired by it, please remember to comment a link to your story so I can read it!  
> Thank you all for reading!


	4. Precious Cargo (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrow, Sarai, and Viren team up to raise an infant Rayla in secret.

It was a sombre Viren that made his way through the halls of Katolis castle. None of the guards paid him any mind as he passed. To them, it looked like the High Mage was merely brooding, again.

Well, honestly, he was brooding, but not because he was trying to unravel a secret meaning to his latest research. No, his mind was busy with much more important questions. The weight of the basket in his hand was incredibly heavy, even if the cargo within could not have been more than six pounds.

His feet carried him up a set of stairs. They knew where to take him, despite his mind being in the whirlwind that it was. He stopped before the open set of double doors where laughter filtered out into the hallway. For the first time since his purchase, Lord Viren pulled himself from his thoughts to observe his surroundings.

The castle's game room had, as he expected, been filled with a large group of twenty-something- year-olds. Nobles, guards, and the like enjoying the stormy summer's evening like a normal group of youth chatting, dancing, and carrying on. A time for them all to unwind, curtsy of the crown prince.

Viren's eyes searched the room for his oldest and dearest friend. He found him seated by the fireplace. His grin and the wave in his hands indicating he was in the middle of some exciting tale. Naturally, Prince Harrow had a captive audience. Harrow always had a way with people being so charismatic, and understanding, and yet he could also be stern and just. Viren had no idea which side of his friend he was about to see, but there was no turning back now.

Besides, he inwardly reminded himself, the Prince would be far more merciful about the mage's new... pet project, than the King would have been.

He ignored the greetings from mutual friends as he crossed the room. His ears picking up the tail end of the Prince's story.

“... then he storms off, acting like a child that had been told he couldn't have a jelly tart before supper.”

There was a number of giggles and chuckles from the listeners. Viren wished he could simply sit down and join in their mirth. He was not a young man in his twenties, anymore, though. Mind you, he was only thirty, but at the moment he felt like someone thirty years older than his peers. Right now, responsibility took precedence.

Prince Harrow took one look at his friend's grim features, and his relaxed composure became stiff. There was already clear calculation behind those olive-brown eyes, “Lord Viren. Is there something I can help you with?”

Viren placed his fist on his chest, and made a small bow, “Prince Harrow. I'm sorry to have disrupted you, but might I have a word in private?”

“Of course,” he stood. With a friendly smile to the now curious on-lookers, he added, “If you would all excuse me for a few moments.”

The two men headed out of the room. Harrow politely excusing himself from anyone wanting to stop him to chat. Viren barely registered that Sarai had also stood and followed them. He would have preferred if she had not, but she was a crown guard. With the latest assassination attempt on the royal family still a week fresh, even a stroll to the loo required the guard's presence. He just was not fond of the fact that said guard happened to be his friend's first love... and first heart break seeing as she was now married to another man. An arranged marriage, but still married none-the-less.

He lead the three of them down the hall to the nearest empty chamber. The treasurer's personal study, it appeared. It was a small room crowded with bookshelves covered in a number of record books. There was a large desk, with a single chair, but no one sat. Besides, there was only just enough room for the three adults to comfortably gather within.

Sarai was about to close the door to take her post outside when Viren sighed, “You may as well stay. This situation is going to need someone with a more... feminine, perspective.”

He did not miss her glare, but she did not say a word as she closed the door behind her.

Prince Harrow did not look amused by the comment either, but his voice remained even, “What is this about, Viren?”

Instead of answering with words, the High Mage carefully placed the basket-bag on the desk. Now that the handles were no longer taught, the top of the basket fell open. Harrow and Sarai craned their necks to see within. Mostly what could be seen was a mound of soft, teal blanket. Then, Viren gently pulled back the basket lip to fully reveal what lay within.

Carefully swaddled in the basket was a tiny infant sound asleep thanks to a dose of sleeping drought. Based on size and the slight pinched look of the babe's skin, she could only have been days old. As if the High Mage laying a stranger's newborn before them was not shocking enough, their eyes roamed over the details that just should not be there. Blue marking ran from under her closed eyes, down her rosy purple-tinted cheeks. She had a fair amount of hair for such a young baby, but the silver-white locks were not enough to hide the nubs on her skull that would one day grow into horns. Her little ears were pointed, and the tiny fist poking out from under the blanket was missing a finger.

It all added up to one conclusion.

Sarai covered her mouth, but it did not hide her gasp.

“Is that...?” But Harrow could not seem to form the words as his mind could not seem to accept what he was seeing.

“A moonshadow elf,” Viren supplied. “Yes.”

Sarai rounded on him in less than a heart beat, “What are you doing with a baby elf? Where is it's parents?!”

He had been expecting the outburst, so was able to remain stoic beneath Sarai's infamous fury, “According to the man I acquired it from, they're dead.”

At last, Harrow's gaze turned from the baby to the man before him. His voice as hard as his stare, “Explain.”

Viren sighed as he rested both hands against his ancient silver staff. “As you know, my practice sometimes needs rare items and ingredients. Much of which cannot be obtained on our side of the boarder. Thus, I have a number of business partners...”

“You mean illegal smugglers,” Sarai growled as she crossed her arms.

She would have said more, but Prince Harrow raised his hand up in a wordless gesture for her to be silent, “Go on.”

Viren decided to ignore the guard's impatience and did as asked, “Earlier this evening, I met with one such business partner that often frequents the Nightshine Forest, and it's surrounding area.” With a pointed look towards Sarai, he added, “I had asked him last we met to see if he could obtain the shed baby teeth of a moonstrider pup. He claims that it was while he and his crew were following a known elven back-road, hoping to find a moonstrider farm, when they had come upon a pack of shadow wolves. The wolves were busy, er, feeding on the remains of two Moonshadow elves. At least, based on what was left they determined the victims had been a male and female pair of moonshadow elves.”

While Sarai's expression visibly became mournful as she looked down at the little elf, Harrow's eyes and slight frown in his set jaw was all that gave away his sorrow. It was strange to think the three of them felt regret that-likely- dangerous elves had died.

Numbing the feeling within him, Viren continued the tale he had been told, “The child was discovered hidden in the hallow of a tree. Outside of the wolves' reach. He said that they couldn't leave it there to the elements, or for some other predator to take.”

“So they decided to bring her back to Katolis, and sell it like some exotic pet?” Prince Harrow clenched his fist.

Viren raised his hands up to placate his angered friend, “I understand your ire. I had believed the same, at first. But when I asked him about it, he claimed that since moonshadow elves use illusions to hide their larger settlements, and his crew were too far from any known disillusioned villages, their only options were to either press forward, and hope they found a loan country home to leave the child on the doorstep of. _Or_ bring it back, and attempt to raise it themselves. When you consider the dangers that comes with travelling in enemy territory with a newborn, naturally they would go with the option that was going to spare lives.”

“Right,” Sarai spat. Distrust dripping like venom in her voice, “they took an innocent baby from it's home out the goodness of their hearts.”

“Sarai, this isn't helping,” Harrow rubbed his eyes to better arrange his thoughts.

“Think about it, Harrow,” the guard's passion causing her to slip regarding proper titles. “If they had planned on raising it, then why does Viren have it?”

Prince Harrow glanced over his hand with a raised eyebrow towards Viren, “She does have a point. Why is it here?”

An invisible weight pressed on the mage's shoulders. Pity coloured his eyes as he looked down once more at the tiny being. “When I met up with the caravan, I could hear it- _her_ \- crying. She had to have been at it for hours with how horsed she was, yet not a soul was doing anything to tend to her. When they let me look at her, I learned she wasn't wearing any clothes, or even a cloth. They were leaving her to soil her bedding. And when I asked what they were feeding her, do you want to know what he told me?”

The question was, of course, rhetorical, so neither responded. Instead, he used that time to rein in the anger burning just under his skin.

“ _Water_.” he seethed. “Not even potato broth, or watered down goats milk. Just _water_.”

For a moment, he was lost in the memory of how the babe had feverishly guzzled down milk fruit elixir. Something so young, no matter its species, should not know hunger that desperately. He remembered how content she looked to finally have nourishment, and wrapped in magically cleaned blankets. He swore the bright lilac eyes were staring up at him with gratitude. Even just being held had made all the difference in turning the poor creature's wails into mumbled whimpers. The caravan had been _amazed_ that he had managed to “shut the beast up”. That had sealed it for him.

He could not help thinking, what if that had been his own children? If the roles had been reversed... if he had been the one watching his son or daughter being treated so cruelly while he could do nothing on the other side of the veil...

Ever so gently, he reached out to run his fingers over her petite fist. Her fingers uncurled to instinctively grab on. Her eyelids fluttered as if they were about to open, but then she turned her head, and- with a content sigh- returned to peaceful slumber.

It was then he realized his friends were watching him in silence. Barely more than a whisper, he said, “I could not, in good conscious, leave her in their... _care_. I got the impression that if she somehow miraculously survived her infancy, she really would have grown up being treated like an animal. An exotic pet, as you put it.”

He felt a strong grip on his shoulder. He did not need to look up to know it was Harrow, but he met the Prince's gaze, regardless. “Then you have done this child, and her belated parents, a great service.”

Viren nodded, but his features were still grim, “I know. The only issue now is that I have no idea what to do with her.”

Prince Harrow cocked his eyebrow with clear confusion in his eyes, “I don't see why you could not raise her along side your own. The children would grow up not knowing any difference in their hearts.”

“With all due respect, Prince Harrow, even if I could convince my wife to accept an _elf_ into our family, it would be unwise to raise the child in the castle ruled by a king dubbed 'The Elf Slayer',” Viren sighed. “That is why I have come to you with this, and no others.”

“If I may be so bold, am I the only one who thinks we should be bringing her back to Xadia where she belongs?” Sarai quipped.

“And how do you expect us to do that without the elves immediately killing us because they assume that we kidnapped her?” Viren countered. There was no edge to his voice. At this point, he would much rather give the thing back to its kind, and move on with their lives.

“But this is kidnapping,” Sarai grit her teeth. “She may have surviving family members... grandparents, siblings, aunts or uncles. Someone out there might be worried sick about what's happened to her. Especially if they have found the bodies of her parents.”

He gave an exacerbated sigh as he finally let his hand move out of the baby's grasp, “I highly doubt anyone is looking for her, or them, for that matter.”

“What makes you say that?” Harrow pressed.

“Her umbilical cord,” Viren vaguely gestured to the child's middle. “It's hardly shrivelled at all. It may be different for elves than humans, but I have been a father twice now. I know what that stub should look like after how many days. From what I can tell, she's less than three days old. Four, tops. And, at the very least, two of those days were spent with the caravan. Do you really believe that a pair of moonshadow elves- the most secretive, and distrusting of all elves- would risk travelling with a newborn only a day old or less? Especially so ill prepared that they were slain by shadow wolves?”

“Supposedly killed by shadow wolves,” Harrow calmly tossed back. Beside him, Sarai nodded her agreement to the suspicion.

Viren inwardly agreed that that detail in the story was very suspicious, but there was no way to prove what had really happened. “Regardless, moonshadow elves would not have risked their offspring's life so soon after birth. They are too proud, and their distrust in outsiders makes them especially protective of those they deem their friends or family. For them to be travelling with one so young, their situation would have needed to be dire. Last I checked, there have not been any human raids or armies charging down the Nightshine Forest.”

“Unless the threat wasn't human,” Harrow thoughtfully scratched his beard.

“All the more reason to keep her here, then,” Viren drop his finger onto the desk as if to visibly drive home his point. “For all we know, her parents could have been thieves, or head-hunters, or... something else that got them banished from regular moonshadow society. Something terrible that got them killed by one of their own. Taking her back is not just a suicide mission for any humans involved. At best she would grow up an orphan, and at worse someone would know who her parents were and do something to punish _her_ for _their_ crimes!”

“You've made your point, Viren,” the Prince peered down at the helpless elf. His arms crossed behind his back, and his lips pursed in thought. “So, we cannot safely return her. Even reaching out might very well lead to her end. Nor can she grow up within the capital of Katolis while my father sits on the throne with generations of hatred towards elves backing him. Where does that leave us?”

“We raise her together in secret,” Sarai answered.

Both men turned to look at her with matching looks of curiosity.

“Look, the only reason my father insisted on arranging for me to wed was so that he could gift me our ancestral home before he died,” she started.

“And I am going to pretend I didn't just hear you admit your family illegally committed tax evasion,” Harrow swiftly covered.

Sarai gave him a playful smirk, “The point being, Sparbin Cottage is ten archers of secluded, privately owned and heavily forested land only a three hour ride from the capital. The three of us, plus my sister, Amaya, and anyone else we can think of that's trustworthy, can rotate caring for the little elf until she's old enough, and strong enough to fend for herself. Then she's free to return to Xadia, find out her past for herself, and become who she's meant to be.”

“Of course,” Viren sarcastically dead-panned. “Because raising a moonshadow elf into a fit, deadly warrior before sending her off to Xadia would come with no drawbacks of any sort.”

“I'm not saying it's a perfect plan,” Sarai rolled her eyes. “But it's the best option we can give her.”

“And she may not even want to go back to Xadia by the time she's ready. At least, maybe not permanently,” Harrow hummed a moment. Then his eyes began to light, “In fact, a child of Xadia who's home is among humans may just be a blessing from the Moon itself.”

“A spy?” Sarai's tone had returned to venom, challenging them to continue that train of thought. Her eyes narrowed at each of them.

Unswayed by the guard's heated demeanour, Viren also brightened.

“An ambassador,” Harrow corrected. He gently caressed the top of the child's head. “Your name, little one, may yet go down in history as the one to help end a millennia of war, and bring peace between humans and Xadia, at last.”

“It's a nice thought,” Sarai outwardly cringed. “But let's not put that kind of pressure on her.”

“Of course,” Viren agreed, but the possibilities were already running excitedly in his head. “We wouldn't want her to grow up, and believe that our love was just a ploy to shape her into some tool.”

“Exactly,” smiling from ear to ear, Harrow lifted the baby from her basket. She only slightly fussed as the sleep draught helped keep her in the land of dreams. “I know you won't remember the hardest day of your life, little one, but we will honour your parents. No matter who they were. We'll teach you just as much about where you came from. And help you get to wherever your heart tells you to go. Whether you become a moon warrior, a moon ambassador, or... a moon painter. Perhaps a moon baker, huh?! Reinventing the jelly tart with some Xadian flare.”

Sarai giggled. Her eyes shinning with a mix of hope and adoration for the sight before her.

“Maybe even a moon mage,” Viren offered.

Both Sarai and Harrow's faces fell.

“Uh, let's maybe agree to not teach her dark magic,” Harrow silently apologized with his eyes to his old friend.

Viren rolled his eyes, “Of course not dark magic. Xadia would never accept her if she learned that. But just because I can't preform moon magic doesn't mean I can't teach her the theory. She may prove to be incredibly gifted on the matter.”

Harrow nodded, “We'll make sure she gets a well rounded education.” Then cooing at the infant, “And of course Uncle Harrow will get to teach you all the important stuff. Like how to play ball kick, and tag, and hide and seek.”

This caused the other two to genuinely laugh.

“I'm sure Soren will gladly teach her how to play in the mud and leaves,” Viren chuckled. “And she and Claudia can learn to braid each other's hair. And talk about how icky boys are. Because no boyfriends until your twenty.” He pretended to scold her with a wag of his index.

“Well, if you guys are going to claim all the warm weather stuff, I get to teach her how to sled, and ice skate, and build snowmen twice as big as her,” Sarai teased while slipping her finger into the child's tiny fist.

“Then it is decided,” Harrow happily gazed into Sarai's eyes. “We will be her family.” Then, as if just remembering Viren was there to, he quickly gave the mage a grin. “All of us.”

“Now she just needs a name,” the crown guard was quick to add.

“Ah, yes,” Viren slipped his hand into a side pocket of the basket. “I believe she already has one.”

From the pouch, he pulled out a small blue-ish, silver-ish ribbon. It seemed to give off it's own glow; soft, like the moonlight. On one side, a stark white thread had been expertly woven into embroidered characters. Viren stretched the ribbon between his fingers to show them.

“What does it say?” Harrow excitedly looked over the unfamiliar symbols.

Viren's brow furrowed with confusion as he looked at the ribbon. He recognized the ancient draconic, but that's not what it had been earlier. “Odd.” He twisted it over just be sure there was not more writing on the other side, but it was blank. “This was in common the first time I looked at it.” He twisted it back so he could read the draconic characters. Only, now they were elven.

“Ah.” he grinned and twisted the ribbon again. “Moon magic,” he explained as he finally presented a ribbon with common characters.

“It's perfect,” Harrow read and reread the text, memorizing it to heart.

Sarai moved her finger up and down so that she was giving the tiny elf a mock handshake, “It's nice to meet you, Rayla. Welcome to the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember what inspired this idea, but it was only after I wrote this chapter did I realize I didn't actually have any idea for a story. I think the concept was supposed to be this cute 'Callum and Rayla growing up together', but the other side of my brain was like 'but the social effects this would cause!'. It would turn into one of those stories that gets away from me too fast like Encyclopedia has done. Thus I am leaving this here until I can map out an actual plot (and keep it under 150k words).  
> If anyone wants to adopt this chapter, or use this idea for one of their own stories, let me know. I would love to read what you wrote!


	5. The Mysterious Magic Dust (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum attempts to escape Rayla by what he believes is sleeping powder in Viren's office... with interesting side effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note Callum and Rayla are 4-ish years older, but everyone else is supposed to be the same age.

This was it, he was going to die. That was the only thought in Callum's mind when his elven pursuer kicked him into Lord Viren's office. If only said mage, or his daughter, Claudia, were present. Instead, he slammed into one of the desks. The force of his body shook the table until a clay jar loudly smashed right before Callum went crashing down too.

He set his hand down to steady himself as he held his aching head, but, even through his gloves, his palm was sliced open on one of the broken jar's shattered pieces. He hissed, pulled his hand away, and instinctively checked what he had cut himself on. He only briefly registered the actual jar, because its contents had captured his interest. Its looked like a pile of white sand with various tiny, flower petals peppered throughout.

Callum might not have known a lot about magic, but there had been this one time he and Claudia had teamed up to prank her brother, Soren. Part of the prank had involved knocking the blonde knight out using this same mixture. At least, he was pretty sure it was one and the same powder. He silently prayed this would be the stuff. Even more than that, he hoped it would work the same on an elf as it had a human, because, honestly, eighteen was far too young of an age to die.

“Y'u don' have ta die,” Her accented voice was cold, and measured.

Her words snapped his attention back to her. She was stalking closer to him with all the confidence of a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run. He flinched when she finally stopped just in front of him.

To his surprise, she did not attack, but continued to speak. “There are only two targets tonight.”

“Wait, two? What do you mean?” as he spoke, he moved his hand back to his side. He was pleased to feel the grainy texture right where he could gather it.

“Ah'm here for the King. And Ah'm also here for his son, Prince Ezran.”

His face fell, and both hands clenched. “You can't. That's not fair! Why would you hurt someone who's done nothing wrong?”

“Humans cut down the King of the Dragons, and destroyed his only egg, the Dragon Prince,” she raised one sword dangerously close to his chest. “Justice will not be de-”

Faster than he had ever moved in his life, he raised up the dust in hand, and blew it at her the same way he had seen Claudia do it. The surprised elf turned her face away. A hand raised to cover her mouth and nose, but her sword meant both were still exposed. He knew she had still breathed it in as she began to cough.

Taking his moment, he scrambled to his feet away from her. Half a heartbeat later, she was in front of him again, blocking his escape. In one fluid motion, she spun, kicked the doors closed, and positioned her swords on either side of his neck. “The hard way it is, then,” she seethed.

His thoughts were screaming, 'why hadn't it worked?!' Her face was turning red, though, and she seemed to be breathing a little heavier. Granted, both could be explained by the coughing fit the dust had caused her.

Which meant his brain returned to the thought that happened maybe two minutes prior: he was going to die. Well, if this was it, the least he could do was sacrifice himself for his brother's sake.

He raised both his hands in surrender. “Alright. You win. You found me.” He paused a moment to prepare himself, and met her eyes with bold determination. “I am Prince Ezran.”

It had to be a trick of the lighting... her eyes almost looked remorseful. Then she started to grimace. In the next second, he blades clattered to the ground as she doubled over holding her abdomen. There was no doubt she was panting now.

“Wha' did y'u do ta me?” Her violet gaze glared at him, but fear rang clear in her voice.

Despite the fact she had tried to kill him, a wave of guilt twisted Callum's insides. “It's a sleeping powder,” he hurried to explain. “A-at least, for humans it is. I'm sorry, I had no idea what it would do to an elf!”

She continued to keep a brave face, but her legs were visibly starting to shake. Before he realized what happened, she lunged, and tackled him to the ground. With him securely pinned beneath her, she twisted his injured hand, and forced him to press the palm against his own face. A sour scent intermingled with the metallic smell of blood hit his nose. At first, he was panicked that she was going to smother him to death with his own hand. His free hand tried to shove her off, but she easily shrugged his attempts away.

Then something got caught in his throat. When he began to cough uncontrollably, the moonshadow elf finally let up. A satisfied smile curved on her lips, “Now we'll both pass out.”

Of course! He looked at his hand with powder still stuck to it thanks to some of his blood that had seeped through the slice in his glove.

Already, he could feel his thoughts starting to cloud. He was becoming woozy just laying there looking up at her. Curiously, his skin started to feel hot, his heart rate was steadily getting faster, and his blood... oh sweet paragon, his blood was heading south. The way she glanced down to where her hips pinned his, he knew for sure she had felt his excitement. Then her gaze returned to his. The look she was giving him...

He had heard of 'bedroom eyes' before, but, despite being a near-adult Prince, he had never been on the receiving end of such lust. She slammed her mouth down onto his. The arm she had been gripping was firmly pressed to the floor. His mind did not even have the chance to wonder about the sudden change before he was firmly pressing his lips back. He free arm snaked around her waist to force her closer to him. Unintentionally, his hips jerked causing both their mouths to open to gasp at the fire shooting through them. Emboldened, she started to grind her pelvis into his in search of that wonderful friction.

Her hot fingers slipped up the front of his shirt. Each stroke along his abs was the best kind of torture. He wanted more... no, he _needed_ more. The arm that had been around her moved down intending to dip under her shirt right back. Except her top was armour that was only enough give for her to move, and not enough for his fingers to slip under. He tried the hem of her pants instead. The belt made that difficult too, but this time he was able to get his hand under her clothing.

Her head snapped away from his as she let out a gasping moan when his fingers traced out her muscular backside. He found he loved the sound, and gave her ass an experimental squeeze. Her hold on his other wrist tightened, her back arched pressing her more into his hand, and she gave an appreciative hum. He pulled his trapped arm a little hoping she would get the message to let go. She did, but only so that she could roughly grab his pants. In one swift motion, she stripped his lower half bare.

The air felt chilled compared to the heat inside his veins. For a moment, reality wanted to creep in as he watched her back up to take in the sight of him. Was he... were they actually going to... with an elf? His would be assassin, at that!

He wondered what it would feel like to plunge cock deep into her core. His dick twitched its approval, and anticipation. Then he noticed her ears twitch too, as she starred at his manhood. The motion had been, well cute. In fact, he would dare to say that seeing this deadly warrior become bashful, and hesitant was down right endearing. The reality of the situation once again faded into a fuzzy, not-there thought. Instead, he wanted to make her move her ears, again.

Untangling his hand from her waistband, he pushed himself up leaving only an inch between their faces. Their heavy panting mixed their breaths. Meeting her gaze, he marvelled at how beautiful she was. The markings beneath each eye accented her cheekbones, and made the vibrancy of her eye colour pop. She appeared to be studying him just as intensely. Not with the cold calculation of a killer, but a curious wonderment trying to decide if she liked where things were going, or not.

He could not say what made him do it, but he brought his hands up to hold her face in his palms. When she did not push his touch away, he dared to move one thumb to trace her ear. She visibly shivered, and her breath stuttered. Like a spell had come over them, the pairs lips once again joined fast and hard. Her hands grabbing tight to his shirt as if threatening to rip it open. He kept running his thumbs along each of her ears. Her kisses grew more desperate; more hungry. He could have spent hours like this- the two of them devouring each others lips- but his exposed lower half was becoming more painful with need by the second.

Allowing one hand slip down her body, he paused only a moment at her breast. Unfortunately, there was not enough give in the armour to properly grope. So he set off back on his mission to locate the clasp of her belt. She suddenly pulled away from him again when his futile efforts to undo the buckle had tugged her hips forward. Then she shooed his hand away and easily undid the piece herself. He could only sit there, memorized as she shimmied out of her pants, and undergarments. In her haste, however, she had forgotten to remove her knee high boots, and thus both articles of clothing would not go further down to be completely removed.

It was still plenty for him to see her lower parts. Still having no idea where this courage was coming from, he reached to run his fingers from her hip, through her silver curled hairs, and dipped a finger between her outer lips. He was amazed by the warm wetness that easily coated his finger. With an experimental flick of his digit, he could feel the ridge of her inner folds. She gasped with his touch. Her hips wiggled as if trying to force his hand deep inside her.

“Please,” she whimpered.

He stroked along her slit, again. This time his finger found a hard, little bundle, and she bucked against him.

“Y-yes,” she threw her head back as she gasp.

In a wild desire to touch his lips to her, again, he went for her neck. He peppered her pulse with tender kisses, and he focused his wander hand on that bundle. It did not take him long to figure out how much pressure he needed to apply to it to get her mewling unintelligible encouragements. Her liquid heat pooled in his hand the more he paid attention to his rhythm.

“Dammit,” she hissed, and then grabbed his hair. Somehow the rough treatment on his scalp as she forced his mouth away from her neck sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. Her other hand pushed his taunting fingers away. “Will y'u stop teasin', and fock me already?”

He watched the way her face became bright red with her words. Still, her eyes hardened with determination, daring him to argue with her demands. Callum moved away so he could kick off his shoes and finish removing his pants and underwear. The elf caught on to what he was doing, and had turned with the intent of undoing the weave along the side of her boot. He was, naturally, done before her. Having to wait while she worked with her bum in the air was torture; he could not take it anymore!

He hurried to move around her until he was positioned behind her. His knees pinned her legs in place by putting all his weight on her half off clothing. She only had a moment to give him a questioning look over her shoulder before he grabbed her hips and he rammed his own forward. His cock had not been lined up, though, and thus he slide along her folds. The contact was still enough to send electricity through his system.

Giving up on her boots, the moonshadow elf instead moved to brace herself against the rug. He moved his pelvis back and forth creating beautiful friction. His cock quickly became covered in her juices making it easier for him to slide along her. He heard her give a frustrated growl. A four fingered hand suddenly captured his manhood in a vice like grip that stilled his movements. Impatiently, she lined up his cock to the right spot, and then pushed backwards instantly impaling herself on him. Her pleased gasp was drowned out my his loud groan.

This was really happening. His dick was being squeezed within the wet walls of an elven pussy... And It. Felt. _Amazing!_ Never in his wildest dreams did he expect how wonderful it felt. She core was mindbogglingly tight around him. Was this an elf thing, he wondered. It did not matter because his brain was urging him to go deeper.

In an attempt to not hurt her, he steadily push forward until he was within her to the hilt. Her wonderful ass being the perfect support as he lost himself in the feeling. Apparently he had paused for too long as she took the initiative in moving forward to extract him until the tip. It set off this sense in him like nothing he had ever felt before. With a possessive growl, he pulled her hips and forced her back onto his cock. Another of her mewl like moans rewarded his actions.

Of course, thrusting into her had also exhilarated his senses. He pulled back, and then charged again. All thoughts of being gentle disappeared. To be honest, he stopped thinking completely. It was as though something else had taken control of him and demanded his hips to snap into action. All he knew was the smell of sweat, and the musk of sex. All he could hear was the smack of skin on skin, and her half-pleas for more that he willingly gave to her. She proved her athleticism, though, by easily keeping pace with his rough love-making.

He could feel her quivering around him. Her cries were getting more desperate driving him wild that there was no longer any rhythm to his movements. All his focus was in how good he felt. He knew he was rushing towards his climax at the speed of a run away carriage. The air itself felt like it was charged with the same the pressure shifting before a coming storm. Except that pressure was also inside him.

“A-ah'm al-most...” she squeaked out but then lost herself in another primal moan.

He tried to control his pace with her words. Though if asked, he would not be able to remember where he had heard it, but the phrase 'a gentleman always makes sure his lover is satisfied first' poked through the fog. For some reason that thought seemed to connect to another 'rule' regarding pulling out when he was going to come. It seemed like such an odd detail at the moment. Who would pull out during the peak of this amazing experience?

Dammit, he did not know how much more he could hold off. Granted, he was not sure if she had finished yet or not. He remembered how wild she had been when he had been touching that spot before. Logically, pleasing her two different ways should get her there twice as fast, right? He moved one hand to her front, and fiddled around for that fleshy bundle. Their moving bodies made finding it fairly difficult for his already dumbfounded mind. Then, by accident, his finger jammed against what he had been looking for. She subconsciously arched her back while she gave a pained hiss. He quickly apologized by flicking that spot the way she seemed to have enjoyed earlier. His efforts quickly received a much more pleased howl.

He thrust his cock with enough force that when her hips pushed forward, it was right into his waiting hand. He did this several more times, never letting up on stimulating her. With a hard shout, her body locked up. Her pussy clamped down and jerked his cock as though trying to encourage him over the edge. Her head dropped, and her arms shook with the effort to remain upright.

“I'm gonna...” was the only thing he could get out.

Her head snapped up as she gasp, and she tried to jerk away from him. But that only caused her already overly sensitive sweet spot to run along his digits. As she needed to catch her breath, he thrust in and out with abandon.

“Wait!”

Her cry came too late. In that exact moment, he pressed into her as far as he could go; almost shoving her to the floor. In a glorious, dizzying feeling, pleasure shot through his loins. His heart beat thumped like thunder in his ears, and, for a moment, he swore he saw lightning flash before his eyes. His balls clenched as wave after wave of cum spilled forth. If he had not felt the vibrations in his chest, he would not have recognize the loud, orgasmic shout as something that came from him.

After nearly a minute, his cock gave one last, weak spurt. A proud, giddy sense filled him when he realized that he had officially had sex. It had not been anything like he had ever expected. No wonder the guards talked about it whenever they thought no one else was listening. Wow... and then there was how hard he had come. He had never managed to release this much seed when masturbating.

His thoughts came to a instant, screaming halt.

Seed...

He pulled back, and looked wide eyed at his now flaccid dick. The combination of her juices and his caught the light of the room making his crime clearly visible for him to see.

He had just released his _seed..._ His eyes moved from his parts, to her folds. Thick, white spunk had started to leak from her hole.

...And it had been _into_ the womb of an enemy.

He saw her reach between her legs, and gather some of the mess onto her finger. Her hand trembled as she held it out for her to see. She made a chocking gasp that made it even harder for him to swallow the growing lump in his throat. As their situation came crashing down, she twisted in place, and he could see the pure shock and fear in her eyes mirroring his own. In less than a second, that look changed to one of pure rage.

Yep, he was going to die. Granted, there was worse ways to go than enjoying a quick romp with his soon-to-be killer before death.

“Callum,” Ezran's small whisper called out from behind a painting.

Aaand it just go worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is not actually the first adult fanfic/scene I've ever written. It's just the first I've shared.  
> I'm incredibly bashful about letting others read the smut I write for someone who cracks sex jokes a lot.   
> Thus, I am finally doing it. I'm sharing this one to help ease myself into actually sharing the smut stuff I write... trust me, I've got a few from over the years. Unlike the previous two chapters I shared here, this one DOES have an entire plot, and I've timidly started writing the next chapters. Basically, yes, I am begging for compliments to boost my self-esteem, and finish this freaking story (and others I've written).  
> If this chapter has inspired your own spin, however, please let me know so I can read it (especially if it's E rated... Mama needs some new material).


	6. Meddling Moon (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keepers get a surprise when Primal energy takes it on itself to arrange a story.
> 
> WARNING: Mild 'Through the Moon' Spoilers in this chapter

Hanging high in the sky, the moon watched as one of her children walked away from the boy that was her destined match. It was not the first time such a pair had gone through this sort of a parting; mortals tended to express love in some rather stupid ways, sometimes. Normally, it was perfectly fine to not interfere as the two would find one another once again, and work things out.

Alas, it had been centuries since her full powers had been so keenly attached to the mortal realm. Her nexus was once more at its peak, and her portal between life and death had been opened.

So, excuse her if she was feeling particularly meddlesome that night.

Her ghostly face beamed to her brethren; the sun, the stars, the sky, the earth, and the ocean. They agreed to her mischief, and lent her what she needed. Then her ghost descended into a peaceful meadow in Xadia. There, a lone golden coin laid. It had been dropped by its captor when said dark mage had kissed the ground... after falling several thousand feet off the top of the Storm Spire. There had been others, but they had not journeyed far from the carrying pouch. Thus, the dark mage's daughter had scooped them up when she had gathered her father's remains.

That was fine; it made reaching him much easier. She took her chosen form- the trapped elf's beloved mate- and slipped into the cursed prison. He was easy to find curled up as though asleep; he was the only thing that existed between these two windows. When her soft light touched his face, his head shot up, and his bright blue eyes widened.

“Ethari?” he breathed. His voice cracked from being both parched, and unused for so long.

It saddened her to see her proud assassin look so frail and sickly. Such a horrible thing was dark magic. She knelt before him so that she could touch the binding that was still tightly clasped around his arm. If there was one mercy about this prison, it shared no barring with mortal timelines. The binding, and thus the damage it caused, was frozen to the exact moment it had been when the mage had cast his spell. When her fingers touch the silver ribbon, its magic instantly released. From the corner of her eye, she could see his mouth had fallen open.

“I am not him, my proud warrior. I am merely borrowing his form to better bring you comfort,” she continued to pour her moonlight into his injured arm. Bit by bit, the discoloration faded.

He was cautiously suspicious when he once again looked at her, “Who are you?”

She raised her eyes to meet his. A gentle smile graced her lips as her hand moved from his arm to stroke his cheek. “We have known one another your entire life, my love. Truly, have you forgotten me so easily?”

His mouth opened and closed, but then he seemed lost in looking over the perfectly mimicked details of his beloved. Subconsciously, his head leaned further into 'his' touch. She indulged him rubbing her thumb to softly pet his cheek.

“Listen well, Runaan. Rayla needs you.”

Her words instantly snapped him to attention. His muscles became tense and ready to fight should she give him the command. How precious that he still deeply cared for his pseudo-child. “Rayla? What is wrong with her?”

Now it was time for a bit of pretend. An easy feat since she _was_ the embodiment of illusions. She let her face fall away, and look sad, “Its her heart. Too many wrongs have twisted her fate, and now she rejects all love. Including that of her soul's match.”

His eyes narrowed with growing disbelief, “Her heart? Is this some sort of trick?”

The spirit sighed, and then swiftly moved her hand up to cover Runaan's one eye. Her power radiated into his thoughts to show him the scene where Rayla had slipped away in the night. Only a note, and a kiss to the forehead, as goodbye.

Before the image had full settled into his mind, she continued, “Without one another, they will both fall prey to what Aaravos and his vessel have prepared for them. Their paths _must_ rejoin.”

“H-how...” he pulled back from her. There was no mistaking the fear in his eyes as his exhausted mind was trying to piece together what exactly was happening.

“By restoring the balance,” she simply answered. Then she turned her eyes to the side of the coin that was currently blacked out. “This window. It allowed you to experience all that your captor experienced.”

He momentarily glanced at the wall, but then promptly returned his focus onto her.

She met his questioning stare, and then gave a half laugh. “No. Viren was never aware that you or any other soul he had trapped was watching through his eyes. And yes, all things it showed you were, indeed, the truth. From it, you have learned a great deal, and have even witness first hand what terrible things that cruel man is capable of. Those were but a few lives he will come to destroy if the path remains thus.”

“And yet if I somehow act as a match maker for a pair of teenagers, he will be stopped?” he dead-panned.

His mildly disgruntled look caused her to laugh in earnest. “Oh my proud warrior. You may be a romantic, but it would certainly be a waste of your skill set if I asked you to be their match maker. No, I intend to send you back three days before that fateful night with all the knowledge you currently bare.”

“That's impossible,” he denied, but there was an influx in his voice that gave away he was not entirely unconvinced.

“Oh, but it is,” she grinned at him. “We both know you've spent the last few weeks plotting what you might have done differently that night knowing all the things you know now. Now, you can.” She then held up her hand to still him from speaking, even though he was not actually going to. “With a few rules in place, of course.”

He seemed to think it over while studying her for any deception. He would not find any, of course, despite this entire visit being one. Finally, he nodded, “What are your terms?”

She raised a finger with each new condition, “I know you cannot do this alone, so I will grant that you can tell no more than five people what you know of this timeline. If you intentionally tell even one soul more, you, and all those you told, will instantly forget anything that had not transpired within the new timeline. And though you may tell these trusted five, you are to do so sparingly, and with the understanding that them telling someone else on your behalf would still count as telling another. I must also stress that neither Rayla, nor Callum, nor Ezran can be one of those five. _They_ must find their path in order to keep the balance.”

“Understood,” his voice cool as it was whenever he was on a mission.

“Good,” she then continued as though uninterrupted. “Next, you may save or kill whomever you feel is necessary, with one exception. You, nor any of the five you choose to share this timeline with, cannot be the ones to bring Viren to his end, directly or purposefully indirect.”

“What? Why?!” Runaan angrily barked.

But she remained ever calm beneath his ire, “For the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I know you are clever enough to understand without me explaining further.”

His nostrils flared, but he did not say a word.

“Take heed, Runaan. Should you defy me on this, you will be responsible for a millennia more of war, and the hundreds of millions of innocent lives that will suffer because of it. All of which I will ensure you will hold witness to.”

A large portion of his anger ebbed away from his posture, and a healthy dose of respect replaced it. “Your warning has been taken to heart.”

“Good.” She turned her eyes to the other window; the night was beginning to wane. “Those are my terms. Anything else beyond that you should think of is to your discretion. And Runaan?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck.” With that, she snapped her fingers, and the space filled with a blinding white light.

\--

Seven figures watched the pieces on their scroll begin to rearrange on their own accord. Sylvarre- Keeper of the Moon's will- palmed her face as she sunk into her chair. Though she and the moon were technically one and the same, when it came to magic, and mortals, they were separate entities.

A light tapping across from her gave away that Lynx- Keeper of the Stars- was just as irritated. Its not that time travel tales were an issue... its just was not their turn to weave a story.

To the side, Numbra was making hissing like snickers, “It appears magic does not care for your prophecy idea, Themia.”

There was a brief zap of lightning zipping along her four great wings. Then, as soon as it stopped, there was loud rustling from her rearranging her fate tokens. “I can still fit one in. Sylvarre, my Shimmering Heart, might I borrow four souls?”

She did not need to ask to know specifically which four her beloved wanted. Thus, she answered by plucking each of them out of the scroll; a blue marble, a sharpened piece of moon rock, a tiny vial holding a leaf, and a toy war bugle. She carefully handed them over, and waited with her senses extended to what the Lady of Dreams was doing. If any one of them could find a work around for their plot when the essence of primal magic itself had interfered, it would be she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote this concept (Runaan being able to see what Viren sees through the coin) a solid four times before settling on this one. After all that, I don't even know what I want to do with it. So, I guess I'm hoping someone will find inspiration, or, at least, throw some ideas my way reading this.  
> Either way, I hope you have enjoyed!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Mysterious Magical Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28769490) by [BlueFeatheredFeline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFeatheredFeline/pseuds/BlueFeatheredFeline)




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